


Rounding the Bases

by elegantstupidity



Category: A League of Their Own (1992)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/pseuds/elegantstupidity
Summary: All Kit wanted, when the team finally arrived in South Bend, was a little shut-eye. She got a lesson in running the bases instead.(If all lessons were like this one, Kit would gladly sign up for a little more sleep deprivation.)





	Rounding the Bases

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lalalalalawhy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalalalalawhy/gifts).



Kit didn’t want to listen to Shirley’s reading lessons anymore. 

She _wanted_ to sleep. The Peaches had a game in South Bend tomorrow, and she really ought to get some shut eye if she wanted to have a good showing on the mound. 

Yet here she was, tucked against the rumbling window of the team bus, listening to Shirley stumble her way through the latest lesson in the Mae Mordabito School of Literacy. 

Where did Mae even find these books? There was no way libraries carried them. Maybe if they did, Kit would've spent more time there than on the ball field.

Not, Kit told herself, that she was actually interested in these books. Even if every time she happened to overhear a lesson, but especially at night when the bus was mostly dark and everything felt quiet and private, a strange awareness of her body stole over her. Her skin felt too tight, her face too hot, her whole being empty and full all at once. 

It wasn't curious. It was  _embarrassing_ , although Kit had never figured out the right words for why.

Anyway, 10:30 at night was hardly the best time for another reading lesson. At least not one with Mae.

When Shirley did them with Ellen Sue, they were easy to block out, soothing and bland enough to fall asleep to. When she did them with Ellen Sue, however, Mae’s voice wasn't always breaking in with fragments and snatches of narration like “milky white breasts” and “thighs quivering in anticipation," making images bloom to life in Kit's brain.

Kit balled her hands into fists and closed her eyes. 

She definitely didn’t twitch when Mae interrupted Shirley with the correct pronunciation of “rendezvous.”

Needless to say, it was a relief when the bus finally pulled up to the hotel. Kit wasted no time in gathering up her jacket and suitcase and hoofing it up the aisle. She didn't even care that Miss Cuthbert would inevitably put her in a room with Dottie. If that room had a bed, it didn't matter that her sister was in it too.  

Or that she would still be sitting at the vanity, applying cold cream and putting her hair into pin curls when Kit fell into an exhausted slumber.

When she woke up, it wasn't to the early morning sun shining full in her face. Dottie always forgot to close the shade. (Her sister wasn't so perfect after all, huh?) The room was dark, and Kit was still tired.

So why was she awake?

The slightly muffled sound of a giggle floated into the room through the wall next to Kit's bed. Then another, followed by the muted sounds of two people talking, just a low, intimate murmur of conversation, nothing distinct enough to identify, but too loud to ignore.

She rolled over, but the talking and giggling refused to fade into background noise. Across the room, Dottie didn't appear to have the same problems as her sister; she slumbered on, looking as peaceful as Kit was restless. She tossed back to the other side, her legs getting tangled in the scratchy hotel blankets and the excess fabric of her pajamas. Trying to shimmy the pants back into place just lit up that strange, tight, tingling feeling Kit sometimes got listening to Mae read. 

Immediately, her face flooding with heat, she stopped, held herself as stiff as a board, and closed her eyes. 

 _Go to sleep_ , she ordered herself.

Another giggle, louder than the last, leaked through the wall.

Before she quite knew what she had planned, Kit was out of bed and in the hallway, tingling pushed to the wayside. She stalked the few steps to the next door and rapped, feeling annoyance and stress and more than a little anger fill her up.

It didn't matter who was giggling through the night. Kit wanted some peace and quiet already!

Which, of course, meant that it would be the one person who could match Kit Keller bad mood for bad mood.

"Whaddya want?" Doris growled as she flung open the door.

She, unlike Kit, had her robe on, as did her roommate Mae, lounging at the foot of one bed with a cigarette. However, neither looked like they'd been getting much sleep. Mae's makeup had been washed off, making her look a little less like a vamp, but only a little. Neither bed was yet turned down, though the covers of one were mussed a bit.

It was well past midnight. Forget about Kit; weren't _they_ going to sleep?

"What are you two doing awake?" 

"Running the bases," Mae drawled, blowing a steady stream of smoke out the window. 

Doris's hissed, "Mae!" should've set off some kind of warning bell, but the pitcher shrugged it off. 

"You know there's a game tomorrow, right?" Kit demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So that's why we're in fucking Indiana."

Ooh, if Miss Cuthbert could hear her now. Well, maybe Kit wouldn't have to worry about feeling so wrong-footed, though she couldn't say why. She'd heard much worse from Doris over the last few months. Cursing shouldn't leave her feeling so out of her depth, but here she was.

“Doris,” Mae chided, “be nice.” 

The way she smirked around her cigarette, though, was anything but _nice_.

Doris rolled her eyes as she turned back to Kit. "Fine. We know there's a game. Now whaddya want?"

Kit drew herself up, wishing she'd thought to grab her housecoat before she stormed out of her room. The thin cotton of her pajama set wasn't doing much good against the slight chill seeping in from the open window. Nonetheless, she lifted her chin and said, "I want you two to keep it down. Some of us need to sleep."

Doris and Mae traded a glance. It looked loaded, though, again, Kit had no idea why. She was getting mighty tired of being a step behind.

"You heard us?"

"The walls aren't very thick," Kit replied, feeling oddly defensive. 

At some signal Kit didn't quite catch, Doris's hand flashed out and drew the pitcher into the room, closing the door with a significant  _click_. 

"What'd you hear, Kit?" Doris demanded, arms crossed.

"Nothing!" she protested, unsure of why they were looking at her so intently. "Just some laughing. Talking."

Mae seemed to relax, but Doris's stance didn't shift. 

"Ya hear that, Doris?" Mae asked, raising a brow. "She didn't hear anything."

Doris continued to frown, but her arms did fall to her side, her robe gaping open at the chest. 

It wasn't anything Kit hadn't seen before. After an entire summer changing and showering in a room full of women, any embarrassment or curiosity she might have once felt was now old hat. But here, in the privacy of a bedroom, even one in a hotel, it felt different. The satin edge of Doris's nightdress against her pale skin made Kit feel tight and strange and tingly all over again. 

She knew a flush had settled over her cheeks when Mae, blowing a stream of smoke out the window, tilted her head, gaze turned calculating. The center fielder's eyes raked over her form, making Kit feel like she might as well not be wearing her pajamas at all. 

Wanting to take back a little authority, to find her footing in a conversation that she understood and didn't all it once, she challenged, "What? Was there anything for me to hear?" 

Mae wasn't the only one who could needle.

Except Mae didn't look particularly bothered. Much closer, Doris shifted, but when Kit glanced at her, she wasn't frowning. Didn't even seem that worried. She just watched Mae, so Kit turned back to her too.

Leisurely, she stubbed out her cigarette before pushing herself upright and drawing close. Even though she had a good three inches on her, Kit felt more than a little intimidated by Mae's sudden proximity. And the way she looked up at her through the dark fan of her lashes didn't help any. Up close like this, it would be tempting to call Mae soft, but she knew better. She might be the kind of pretty and feminine that Kit had grown up falling short of, but she was also easier to understand since it was underpinned with a scrappiness, a hunger, Kit recognized all too well. 

It would have been easy to get sucked into Mae's gravity, for everything else to fade into soft focus, but Doris's steady presence at Kit's shoulder was a good balance. She could feel her body heat radiating into her, warm and close and just as intent as Mae.

Staring her right in the eyes, a confident smirk playing over her pale, unpainted lips, Mae purred, "You want to find out?"

If Kit's skin had felt too small for her body before, she didn't know what to call this. Or the fire that spread from her face and settled in her stomach. 

And even lower, if she were honest.

Okay. Kit had listened to enough of Shirley's reading lessons to know exactly what _that,_ that heat and ache between her legs, meant. It should have made her more embarrassed than she already was, but instead, it just made Kit feel bold. 

She nodded. 

In no time at all, Kit found herself sitting on the mussed bed, Mae on one side and Doris on the other. They both pressed close, warm and intoxicating and probably too much for Kit to handle. Being handled, though, felt just fine.

"You ever done this with a girl before?" Mae asked, the heat from her hand bleeding through the cotton of Kit's pajama bottoms into the skin of her knee. Instantly, her hands went sweaty, anticipation burning through her body.

"C'mon, Mae," Doris taunted, angling into her side, pressing her soft front into Kit's arm. "She's a farm girl. She probably doesn't know anything other than cow shit and corn."

"I know," Kit protested, wincing as her voice came out far too loud, " _things_."

"Yeah? What kinds of things, Kit?" Doris teased.

Kit swallowed. Honestly, not much. Still, she wasn't going to be the green one tonight. So, she turned and laid a firm kiss right against her third baseman's big mouth. Her lips were pliant with surprise, firmer than Kit would've expected. Though she'd never really thought to expect shutting up Doris Murphy so thoroughly.

"I know how to do that," she murmured, once she convinced herself to pull away. "More than cow shit and corn."

"That true, Doris?" came Mae's voice, undisguised amusement licking through the words. "She know what she's doing?"

It took Doris a long moment to respond. When she did, her voice was thick, tight with restraint. "She's not bad," she finally allowed.

Mae laughed. "Then maybe I should try for myself." 

One hand, capped off by long, manicured nails, reached around for Kit's jaw. Gently, she coaxed her around until they were face to face. 

Kit was ready for the kiss when it came, but not for how different it would be, and not just because it was with a different person. This wasn't to prove a point. This was the way kissing was described in all of Mae's terrible, embarrassing, amazing books. The fire in Kit's belly only burned all the brighter. 

Not that Doris wasn't fully capable of stoking that fire herself, as she proved when her lips began to explore the column of Kit's neck.

A soft, needy pant filled the room. It took a moment for Kit to figure out that it was her. She was making those noises. Her companions, though, didn't seem to mind. 

"How'd you like first base?" Mae purred, lips trailing away from Kit's mouth to her neck, taking the side Doris hadn't already claimed. 

"Huh?" Kit managed hazily. So much for knowing things. 

Twin grins pulled at Doris and Mae's mouths, but she barely had time to react to their smug superiority because Doris had decided it was her turn for another kiss. This time around, she put her all into it, dedicating herself to drowning out all thoughts that didn't center on lips and teeth and tongues. 

Kit was more than fine with that. 

So fine, in fact that she only noticed Mae's quick fingers had been busy when a slight breeze from the open window caressed over her skin. Her bare skin. Her pajama top hung open from her shoulders, though even that coverage was gone as Doris pulled the fabric away, Kit shaking out her arms to help her along. 

It wasn't the breeze, though, that made her shiver. No, that had to be the way two sets of hands now eagerly explored her half-naked body. All it took was a little coaxing and Kit lowered herself to the mattress. She wasn't sure how much longer her spine would've held out; she just wanted to melt.

One of those hands crept up to cup Kit's breast. A thumb flicked over the brownish-pink peak, drawing it to stiff attention and making Kit whine. She didn't even know whose hand it was, but she hardly cared. It felt too good to get caught up in the specifics. 

"Look at that, I'm already rounding second," Mae rasped, lifting her lips from Kit's collarbone. Soon, her other breast was being fondled, different enough that she was certain they'd taken one each. Kit squirmed under their ministrations, feeling the fire in her belly threaten to turn into an explosion, but she wouldn't give them up for anything. 

Especially not when she felt another hand skate up her leg, landing right at the juncture between her thighs, right at the center of the inferno burning inside her. Even through her pajama pants and the panties she suspected would need a good scrubbing by the time this was all said and done, Kit jolted at the sudden contact with such an intimate area. She'd longed for it, but it came as a surprise nonetheless.

She gasped as someone—Mae, judging by that smirk—rubbed the heel of her palm against the gusset of Kit's panties and Kit herself. 

Oh. Oh, this was so much better than  the one roll in the hay—literally; the one and only time Kit ever let herself get even close to carried away was in the hayloft on the Downes farm—she'd had back in Oregon. She was pretty sure she was still a virgin, but it wasn't like she could just  _ask_. Her mother would've had a heart attack and her father would've had her and poor Randall Downes marching up the aisle, at shotgun-point if he had to. 

Well, good thing he hadn't because even if Randall Downes had deflowered her, he never made Kit feel like _this_. 

She was aware of what felt like every single bit of her body, from the curl of her toes to the tips of her hair, and every single inch of her was lit up like a house on fire. 

"There goes third," muttered Doris before wrapping her lips around the stiff peak of Kit's breast. 

"And here's how I really hit it out of the park."

Mae removed her hand from between Kit's legs, but before she had a chance to whine at the loss of pressure, Kit found herself entirely nude. Her pajama bottoms and underwear were whisked away by the center fielder's eager grasp. As soon as they were gone, Mae dropped to the floor, kneeling between Kit's spread legs. She didn't have time to feel embarrassed or shy about it. With a surprising strength, she tugged Kit down until her aching center was even with the edge of the mattress, only inches from Mae's waiting face. The pitcher went willingly enough, so pliant from their caresses and kisses that she would've done far more than reposition herself without quite knowing why.

Thankfully, the why quickly became apparent.

Taking over where her fingers had left off, Mae's mouth pressed against Kit's most intimate parts.

She let out a shout as sparks bloomed across her vision. 

Immediately, Doris lifted her head from Kit's chest and a clapped a hand over her mouth. Once it was clear Kit wouldn't bring the entire hotel running, she removed it tentatively. Only, Mae chose that moment to do something incredible with her tongue and one long finger. Kit whimpered, biting hard on her tongue to keep from getting too loud again. Doris shook her head and glanced down Kit's writhing body, looking right in to Mae's twinkling eyes. 

When she looked back up, she muttered, "Can't let you blow our cover," before sealing her lips against Kit's. Kit had no complaints. She grabbed hold of Doris, fingers sliding desperately into her hair as she shifted her hips, lifted them again and again to Mae's mouth and lashing tongue. 

She couldn't say how long the interlude lasted, how long she clung to Doris and whined and whimpered into her mouth as Mae used hers for other pursuits. She knew that both Doris and Mae's hands continued to wander, exploring every exposed bit of Kit's body, sussing out all her most eager, sensitive parts. They drove her up a peak that she never wanted to end. Time seemed to stretch out and speed up all at once until everything crashed together and a wave of unprecedented pleasure—better than striking out a side or sliding headfirst into home—washed over Kit, seizing her every muscle and every thought in incandescent perfection. 

When she came back to herself, Mae had lifted herself from the floor and crawled back onto the bed. She curled around Kit from one side, and Doris took the other. Sandwiched between them, Kit closed her eyes and tried to come to terms with the fact that she could feel so good. It wasn't a hard concept to grasp, she just wasn't sure how she was supposed to get anything else done again.

"Told ya we were running the bases," Mae rasped, tucking her chin over Kit's shoulder. From her other side, Doris laughed. Kit joined in. Once the giggles faded away, though, she still had one burning question:

"When can I try?"

(As luck would have it, they were both more than happy to put her through her paces.)


End file.
